


A Face To Call Home

by BellumGerere



Series: A Wolf Among Lilacs [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Background Relationships, Background characters - Freeform, Backstory, Book Reworking, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellumGerere/pseuds/BellumGerere
Summary: Ciri needs a teacher, and Triss knows someone who can help.





	A Face To Call Home

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first of several companion pieces to the longer work 'A Wolf Among Lilacs,' and it can probably be read on its own, but I recommend reading through about chapter 5/6 of AWAL before jumping into this. It's the longest single piece I think I've ever written and it's been months in the making, so I hope y'all like it! I cut a few scenes and added others for the sake of keeping the focus solely on the growing relationship between Yennefer and Ciri - this isn't focused so much on her powers. -Bel

    _Her breast is fit for pearls,_  
 _But I was not a "Diver" -_  
 _Her brow is fit for thrones_  
 _But I have not a crest._  
 _Her heart is fit for home-_  
 _I - a Sparrow - build there_  
 _Sweet of twigs and twine_  
 _My perennial nest.  
                                                - _Emily Dickinson

~

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as Ciri watched anxiously. Something was going on. She’d known it from the moment she came downstairs and Vesemir told her to pack her things without so much as a ‘good morning.’ At first she’d been expecting—hoping for, rather—some kind of surprise. After all, she _was_ turning thirteen in only a couple of weeks. But she should’ve known better than to think it was anything good, especially from the witchers of Kaer Morhen, who seemed to have a vastly incorrect idea of what ‘fun’ was, an idea which usually, in their minds, involved drinking. She tried to worm her way out of it, but no matter how much she pouted Vesemir wouldn’t relent, so a couple of hours later she found herself in the large, drafty entryway saying her goodbyes.

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” Geralt replied, clearly annoyed. He was resting his hand on Ciri’s shoulder, but it did nothing to calm her. “None of us have been able to do anything about it. And if Triss has been offered a position in Foltest’s court, she can’t exactly say no. All we can do now is trust her word.”

“And you trust her on this?” Eskel stood a few feet away with his arms crossed, a bag at his feet as well. He was going to be the one driving her to wherever she was going. When she found that out she’d gone straight to Geralt and begged him to take her instead. He’d gently unwrapped her arms from his midsection and told her he’d received a summons about some important contract and he had to leave immediately as well, heading in a different direction. Ciri didn’t have a problem traveling with Eskel specifically, but she knew he also wouldn’t tell her anything about what they were doing. Geralt, at least, would be open with her. “You don’t think there’s any bias?”

Geralt huffed in irritation. “If there is, it’s too late to worry about it. The arrangements have already been made. She’s on her way there now.”

“Who’s already going where?” Ciri exploded, straightening up and putting her hands on her hips. She’d been fidgeting in silence for the past ten minutes, assuming someone would explain everything, but they’d been debating back and forth the whole time, ignoring her completely. “Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

They fell silent, staring at her. Lambert had a nasty sneer on his face, but before he could say anything Geralt tightened his grip on Ciri’s shoulder, forcing her to look at him. “Come with me for a minute?” he said, and she nodded reluctantly. She felt the others’ eyes on her as she followed him into one of the side hallways; it was the only place they could get even some semblance of privacy without going somewhere across the keep. They ducked into a nearby stairwell and Geralt sat down on the steps in front of her, elbows on his knees, keeping himself at her eye level.

“Ciri,” he said in a quiet, gravelly voice, and Ciri stared down at the stone floor. He was speaking in _that_ tone, the one he only used when he was saying things that would upset her. “You know we’ve tried everything we can to help you with…what’s been going on.” He meant the dreams. Even though he didn’t state it outright, Ciri’s stomach clenched uneasily. “But it hasn’t been enough, and we’ve exhausted all our options here. So you’re going to stay with a sorceress for a while, at the temple. She’ll teach you how to control them. And other magic, if you want.”

The whole idea sounded ridiculous to Ciri. She didn’t see how knowing magic would help her control her dreams, and besides, she didn’t have any powers, no matter what the others said. She hadn’t even been able to form a single witcher sign in all her years at Kaer Morhen. It seemed to her like some elaborate plan concocted to get rid of her, though she would never say that to any of them. She didn’t actually think Geralt wanted her to go.

“But the sorceress isn’t Triss,” she said suspiciously. Ciri didn’t trust any sorceresses, except for Triss. She’d heard an awful lot of stories about Geralt and sorceresses, and none of them had ended well.

“No, it’s not,” Geralt conceded after a moment’s pause. “Triss is training to be an advisor for King Foltest, and she couldn’t get the time off it would take to train you.” She was slightly mollified to see that he didn’t look happy about it either. “You’ll be taught by an old roommate of hers, a friend with some impressive credentials, if the information she provided me is correct.”

Ciri frowned, fiddling with one of the belt loops on her jeans. “And what do you think of her?”

“We haven’t met.” She widened her eyes in an exaggerated display of surprise, hoping it would hide her very real shock. “But we’ve emailed a few times, and she seems perfectly nice. I don’t see any reason why you won't get along.”

Ciri could already think of at least five reasons, though if she’d been able to decipher Geralt’s nearly-incoherent emails, that was already a point in her favor. “…okay. Can you at least tell me what her name is?”

He sighed. Ciri understood. It felt as if them giving her a name, acknowledging her as a part of Ciri’s life, made it all too real. She had a sudden, terrible fear that if she left Kaer Morhen now she would never return.

“Yennefer,” he said slowly, as if it tasted wrong on his tongue. “Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

\--------------------

The trip down to Ellander took them a couple of days, most of which were spent in relative silence. Eskel, much like Geralt, wasn’t very talkative. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered Ciri, but the nervousness had built up so much that she couldn’t help but wish for some distraction. She divided her time between staring out the window from the passenger seat and sleeping in the back, feeling the passing of hours all too acutely.

They arrived at midday, and when they met Nenneke at the temple’s main entrance she barely had time to spare a warm smile for Ciri before she hurried them off down the echoing stone hallways. “You’re later than we’d anticipated you,” she said, voice tight.

“Maybe Geralt can drive for two days straight, but I can’t,” Eskel replied smoothly, no anger or annoyance in his tone. He only sounded tired. Eskel had always been slow to anger. Ciri was tired too. She wanted to collapse on the nearest bed and sleep for a week. “We had to stop somewhere.”

“It’s no matter.” Nenneke waved her hand like she was brushing the comment away, but she didn’t slow her pace. Ciri, though she’d always been told she was tall for her age, was starting to have trouble keeping up. “They got here an hour ago. She’s growing impatient.”

“They?”

She was getting farther and farther ahead, but Ciri still heard her sigh. “She brought a small caravan of people with her. Thankfully, none of them are staying.”

They rounded a corner and passed through a doorway into a small courtyard. Ciri stopped short a few steps later when she caught sight of two other people in front of the door opposite her, talking in hushed voices. It was too late, though—they’d already seen her, and they straightened up as she hesitantly continued to approach. The woman on the left, with long, dark hair and wine-colored lipstick, looked at her with equally dark, unsettling eyes. The eyes of the man next to her were grey and watery, but he looked no less threatening.

“You’re late,” the woman said, leaning back against the low wall that enveloped the courtyard’s greenery. She wore a sleeveless top that matched her lipstick and several large pieces of agate jewelry on her neck and wrists. Her gaze drifted from Ciri to Eskel, and Ciri let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Nice to see you as well, Lady Eilhart,” Eskel said dryly. The woman—Ciri was incredibly glad she wouldn’t be the one teaching her—smiled faintly. The man was still looking at her, his eyes more intense every time Ciri glanced back at him.

She looked like she was going to respond, but then a familiar voice called Ciri’s name and a few seconds later Triss Merigold appeared through the doorway behind the two. She ran up and hugged her, and Ciri tried to hide her relief at seeing a friendly face in the waves of Triss’s chestnut hair. “How was the ceremony?” she heard Eskel ask, and remembered suddenly that she would have graduated from Aretuza not a few days before. “Anyone give you any shit about…you know?”

Ciri didn’t know, but she had a feeling she wasn’t supposed to. Triss was frowning as she pulled away. “Not to our faces,” she said, trying very hard to sound casual. “Everyone’s too concerned with appearances to try. But based on what I’ve heard…well, no one’s happy about it, I’ll just say that.”

Over Triss’s shoulder Ciri saw another woman hovering in the now-open door. She leaned against the wall, tilting her head so her waist-length black curls fell away from her face, and watched with a cool expression as Nenneke motioned Ciri forward after muttering “it’s about time” under her breath.

“Come closer, Ciri,” she said with a very wide, tight smile. Ciri stood next to her unwillingly. Her whole body was tense. “This is Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg. You don’t have to be nervous; everyone here knows who you are. You can trust them.”

Ciri locked her fingers in front of her to try and stop her hands from shaking. Yennefer of Vengerberg straightened up with a natural, unaffected grace, walked up to Ciri and grabbed her chin with cold, thin fingers, turning her face back and forth. Anger welled up in her suddenly—no one had ever treated her that way before. Yet at the same time…she looked up at the woman—her triangular face, high cheekbones, glowing pale skin, the way she’d filled in her eyebrows to accentuate them, the proud set of her lips—and felt a vicious envy boil through her. Her scraped knuckles, bruised skin and stringy hair were doubly loathed in the face of her longing to possess the same beauty Yennefer had. She wore a velvet ribbon on her neck, and from it hung a pendant, a star, that sparkled oddly between the open top buttons of the white blouse she wore under a black cardigan whose sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. The blouse itself was very translucent, and through it Ciri could see the way her chest rose and fell with every even breath, accentuated by black lace…

“So this is her,” Yennefer said. Her voice was powerful but melodious, though Ciri thought she detected a slight mocking edge. “Look me in the eyes, girl.”

Ciri obliged and shuddered involuntarily, afraid yet unable to tear her gaze away from Yennefer’s icy violet stare. She straightened up, letting go of Ciri’s chin, and turned to Nenneke. “Yes, it’s obvious. You only need to look at her face to see it. High forehead, long nose.” She caught a strand of Ciri’s hair between her fingernails, which were painted a light dusty purple, and Ciri fought the urge to pull away. “Rare hair pigment. Obvious elven blood, but not much—a great-grandparent, most likely, am I correct?”

“I don’t know her family,” Nenneke replied with a surprising amount of calmness. The others watched in silence, not daring to interrupt. “I didn’t ask.”

“Tall for her age,” Yennefer continued, as if the priestess hadn’t even spoken. Ciri dug her nails into her palms and clenched her teeth, trying to keep herself from doing anything rash. “Did she suffer any infectious diseases as a child? Wait—no doubt you didn’t ask about that either. Has she had any more recent troubles that you know of?”

“No. Just the dreams.”

Yennefer nodded and pushed her hair behind her ear. She’d gotten it pierced several times, Ciri saw, each one a diamond that shone unsettlingly like the ones on her neck. “He told me about them. Based on what he said in the emails, they haven’t…done anything to her. I’d like to believe that’s true.”

“It is. They only gave her natural stimulants.”

“Stimulants are _never_ natural!” Yennefer said loudly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose in a way that looked remarkably similar to something she’d seen Geralt do a million times. “It’s entirely possible they could be the thing that’s aggravating her symptoms! Damn it. And he seemed like a rational person…”

“Calm yourself,” Nenneke said. Yennefer opened her eyes and they looked at each other coldly. “If I say they are natural and safe, then they were. Forgive me, dear, but in this I’m a greater authority than you. I may not have your education but I do, believe it or not, know what I’m talking about.”

“Fine,” Yennefer said coolly. “Well, then…come, Surprise. We’ve not much time, and it would be a shame to waste it.”

Ciri tried to surreptitiously wipe her sweaty hands on her jeans as she turned to Nenneke, who was again wearing that unpleasantly false smile. “You’re going with Lady Yennefer now,” she said brightly, and Ciri bit the inside of her cheek. “Lady Yennefer is going to look after you for a while. No doubt you’re confused as to why such a renowned sorceress has decided to take you into her care, especially one so young. But you’re a reasonable girl, Ciri. You’ve inherited certain…abilities, and no one has yet been able to help you navigate them. But Lady Yennefer—”

“Lady Yennefer,” she interrupted impatiently, “will do what is necessary. A moment, please.”

Nenneke looked stunned for a second, but she pressed her lips together into a thin line and nodded. She placed her hand on Ciri’s shoulder gently and guided her back through the door they’d come in, and Eskel followed them. Triss smiled reassuringly at her as they passed, but Ciri would have to be blind not to have seen the worry in her eyes. She remembered what Eskel had said back at Kaer Morhen about bias. She wondered what he’d meant—no one could possibly like that woman, especially Triss, who had never been anything but kind and understanding towards Ciri.

The door swung shut behind them, and for a few moments the three of them stood in a loose circle, not quite meeting each other’s eyes. Ciri rocked back and forth on her heels, not caring when Nenneke shot her an annoyed glance. She suspected a lot of things about her would annoy Yennefer of Vengerberg, so she might as well get used to it. They watched as the others left one at a time—first the dark-haired one that Eskel had called Lady Eilhart, then the man with the awful grey eyes, then Triss, whose own eyes were red as she hugged Ciri one more time before they all left, and Nenneke urged her back inside with one last more genuine, though regretful, smile.

Yennefer looked over at the sound of the door clicking shut. She’d been pulling her fingers through her hair, but she stopped when Ciri approached cautiously. Without giving Ciri a chance to say anything she launched into a very well-prepared speech as she returned to what were now her quarters, the heels of her thigh-high boots clicking on the floor. Ciri followed her though a spacious main room, high walls lined with bookshelves, and into an equally enormous bedroom. She didn’t pause as she opened a box and began to shelve an impressive collection of leather-bound grimoires. Her voice carried with what seemed to be very little effort on her part, and Ciri watched with great interest as she flitted around the room, though every time Yennefer turned in her direction she looked away.

“Nobody asked me about it,” she muttered after a few seconds of silence at the end of the speech. Yennefer paused, setting the book in her hands on a shelf before turning to her.

“Asked me about what?”

Her hands trembled; she clenched them into fists at her sides. “Whether I wanted you to teach me!”

Yennefer raised her eyebrows and rested her hands on her hips, white-knuckled. “That’s funny, because no one asked me whether I wanted to teach you either. And wanting’s not important. I _wanted_ to start my own practice once I finished my apprenticeship, but I’m here instead. I was asked to check how things stand with you. To examine what’s inside you, how it might endanger you. And I, though not unreluctantly, agreed.”

“But I haven’t agreed!”

She thought she saw Yennefer’s lips move at the same time her hand did, but the sudden throbbing in her temples shoved the thought away, and she felt weak in the knees. “Listen very carefully,” she said in a soft, dangerous voice as she approached Ciri, not letting her hand drop. “It would be very easy for me to cast a spell on you, hypnotize you, put you in a trance. I could paralyze you, force an elixir down your throat, strip you, lay you on the table and examine you for hours, occasionally taking breaks while you lie there unable to move. That’s what I would do with anyone else. I don’t want to do that to you because I could tell right away that you’re a smart girl. I don’t want to put either of us to shame. Not in front of Triss, and not in front of Geralt—because even though I’m not here for him, ultimately he was the one who asked me to help you deal with your abilities.”

Ciri was suddenly very angry. Of course she was dragging Geralt into this to get a rise out of her—they hadn’t even _met_. “He asked you? Why? He never said anything, never asked me—”

“You keep returning to that. Might it be possible that you’ve given them cause to not consider you worth asking? But since you’re insistent on it, I’ll take the risk. Will you allow yourself to be examined?”

“And what will it involve? What are these tests? Why—?”

“I’ve already explained it. If you didn’t understand, that’s too bad. I wasn’t asked here to assess your intelligence. I can examine a sensible girl just as well as a stupid one.”

“I’m not stupid,” she choked out. “And I understood everything!” Yennefer lowered her hand and Ciri gasped for breath, clutching her abdomen.

“All the better.”

Ciri took a minute to catch her breath, wait for the buzzing in her head to fade, before she spoke again. “But I couldn’t be a sorceress! I don’t have any abilities, and besides, I don’t want to! I’m destined for Geralt! I’m going to be a witcher! And I won’t even be here that long! I’m going back to Kaer Morhen soon…”

“You seem,” Yennefer said icily, “to have forgotten where my eyes are. Is there something about my neckline that interests you, or is it just pure jealousy?”

Ciri couldn’t stop the flush that crept up her cheeks, and she was certain Yennefer noticed, though she didn’t comment further. “That star…” she muttered, furrowing her brow. “What’s it made of? The stones shine so strangely…”

Yennefer looked at her oddly for a moment, then smiled with closed lips. “They pulsate,” she said, pulling the open collar of her blouse further to the side so Ciri could see better. The stones seemed to shine brighter as she ran her fingers along the pendant’s edge. “They’re active diamonds, sunken in obsidian. Do you want to see them up close? Touch them?”

“Yes—no!” Ciri didn’t realize she’d taken a few steps closer until she forced herself away. Yennefer smelled very strongly of lilac and gooseberries. “Why should I? I’m not interested one bit! I’m a witcher! I don’t have any magical abilities! And I can’t be a sorceress anyway, because…”

She trailed off, biting her chapped lips. Yennefer sat down on the wide window seat, pulling her legs under her, and held her hand out in front of her, examining her fingernails.

“…and anyway,” she said after a moment, “I’ve got to think about it.”

“Come here.” Yennefer rested her other hand briefly on the space beside her, and Ciri obeyed.

“I need to think about it,” she repeated cautiously.

“You’re right.” Yennefer nodded without looking at her. “It’s a serious decision. It needs to be given some thought.”

For the next several minutes neither of them said anything. Ciri stared at Yennefer’s small hands, no longer caring if she noticed. She wore a large, heavy-looking ring on the right one, silver and set with another pulsating stone, this one purple. It had things engraved on it, but Ciri was too far away to read them.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Have you thought about it?”

Ciri jumped up and whirled around, practically vibrating with anger. Yennefer looked entirely unperturbed. “I—are you making fun of me? I need more time than that! A whole day! And night!”

Finally Yennefer met her eyes, and Ciri felt herself deflate under her penetrating stare. “It’s said that the night brings solutions. But for you, the only thing it can bring you is another nightmare. You’ll wake up screaming in pain, frightened of what you saw, of what you can’t remember. And you won’t fall back asleep. There will only be fear. Until morning.”

Ciri shuddered, blinking back tears as she tore her gaze away. Yennefer shifted in front of her, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward so her elbows were on her knees, fingers interlaced. “Surprise,” she murmured, and Ciri could hear the shift in her tone. “Trust me.”

Despite the coldness of her fingers, Yennefer’s shoulder was warm, her hair soft as it fell in Ciri’s face. She felt calmer there. Safer.

“You’ll submit to the tests, Surprise.”

“I will,” she replied, even though they both knew it wasn’t a question.

\--------------------

“I don’t get it.” Ciri leaned forwards from her perch on the bed, running her hands over the black-and-white quilt. Yennefer was continuing to unpack as they talked. After the grimoires came several boxes of spiral-bound notebooks, each dated and bearing labels in runes Ciri couldn’t read. “First I’ve got abilities because of these dreams, but you have to check. So which is it? Do I have them or not?”

“The tests will answer that question.”

“ _Tests_.” She made a face. “If I had powers I’d know, wouldn’t I? But…if I did…what then?”

“You’ve got two choices.” Yennefer opened the closet and started standing on her toes to put things on the top shelves. Ciri didn’t know why she needed to–her thigh-high boots had the highest heels she’d ever seen. “We can either extinguish your abilities, or I can teach you how to control them. If you’re gifted, and if you want, I can give you some elementary knowledge of magic.”

“What does ‘elementary’ mean?”

“Basic.”

Yennefer knelt down and began to unpack more clothes into a low chest of drawers. She’d opened the window, tied up her hair, and left the cardigan on the bed a couple feet away from Ciri. The wide strip of black lace covering part of her torso stood out starkly against the paleness of her skin. “What will you teach me? Are you going to take me away? I won’t go if you try!”

“Then I’ll leave on my own, and I assure you I won’t miss you.” The coldness of her voice made Ciri shiver. “I said I’ll only teach you if you want it, and I can do that just fine right here.”

“For how long?”

“As long as you want.” She pulled a flat, wide box from the bottom of the bag she’d been unpacking, opened it and shut it again quickly, staring out the window and blinking several times, very quickly. Ciri heard her curse as she tucked it into the back of the open drawer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ciri sat up a little straighter on the bed. “So if I get bored, or I don’t like it—”

“We’ll stop. All you have to do is tell me. Or show me.”

“How would I show you?”

Yennefer sat back on her heels, resting her hands on her thighs. “If we go forward with this, I expect absolute obedience. Absolute. If you become tired of it, you need only disobey. The lessons will immediately stop. Understood?”

Ciri nodded. Yennefer, looking satisfied, turned back to her unpacking as she continued. “I will also,” she said, voice echoing off the high stone walls, “demand complete sincerity. You will not hide anything from me. If you lie, if you close in on yourself, if I ask you something and you don’t answer honestly, I will interpret it as an instant end to the lessons. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” Ciri muttered. Every second she spent with Yennefer, she liked her less and less. She wouldn’t mind being honest about that, at least. “And does this…sincerity…run both ways? Can I…ask you things?”

Yennefer looked at her again. She had a very odd look on her face, had her lips twisted strangely. Ciri squirmed on the bed, uncomfortable with the thoroughness of her gaze.

“Of course,” she finally said. “That goes without saying. I don’t expect you to trust blindly. You’ll ask questions, and I’ll answer. Sincerely.”

“Any question?”

“Any question.”

“As of now?”

“As of now.”

“If you don’t want to be here so badly, how did Triss convince you to come?”

Yennefer opened her mouth slightly, then closed it again. Ciri, stunned at her own impertinence, sat tensed. There was a look in Yennefer’s eyes Ciri wasn’t sure she liked as the sorceress stood, approaching with a calmness that belied the set of her shoulders. She sat on the bed, barely jostling it with her lightness, and looked her closely, deeply, in the eyes.

“I owe her a great debt,” she said gravely. She put her hand on Ciri’s shoulder, squeezed tightly. “She saved my life more than once. So when she asked, I accepted. Well, let’s get on with the tests, you little green-eyed viper. We’ll see if you’re cut out for this—though after that question I’d be very surprised if you weren’t. Come on, my ugly one.”

Ciri bristled. “Why did you call me that?”

Yennefer smiled with the corners of her lips.

“I did promise to be sincere.”

\--------------------

Ciri had been hurt a great many times during her years at Kaer Morhen. She’d scraped elbows and knees falling off of things. Broken bones by jumping off them and landing the wrong way. Gotten bruised because the witchers didn’t realize, at first, the strength of their own blows. Hit herself a few times, the result of clumsy swordsmanship. More often than not she went to bed with aching muscles, but it was always coupled with a sense of accomplishment.

The pain that came with sitting in the temple’s uncomfortable chairs, the cramping in her hand—those didn’t feel like that.

“This is pointless!” she complained, trying and failing to rub off the pencil smudges on her hand with the bottom of her t-shirt. “It’s not going to work! I knew it right away, but you didn’t listen!”

“I didn’t?” Yennefer raised her eyebrows, a gesture Ciri was already becoming quite familiar with. She was leaning against a wall not far from where Ciri sat, wearing a black dress cut high on her thighs and another pair of boots with very high heels. If she took them off, Ciri suspected they’d be nearly the same height. “Interesting. I usually devote my undivided attention to every sentence uttered in my presence and note it in my memory—as long as there’s at least a little sense to it.”

“You always mock me,” she mumbled. Yennefer shifted her weight, draped her arms loosely over her midsection as she watched. “I only wanted to tell you—about these abilities…back in Kaer Morhen, I couldn’t form any witcher Signs. Not a single one!”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I know. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Why? Well—never mind. But that’s not all!”

“I’m listening in suspense.” Ciri balked at the dryness in her voice, but the words were already out of her mouth, and she doubted Yennefer would let it go.

“I’m not cut out for it, don’t you understand? I…I’m too young.”

She, yet again, raised one perfectly penciled-in eyebrow, a gesture that was beginning to annoy Ciri to no end. “I was younger than you when I started.”

“But I’m—I’m sure you weren’t…”

“What do you mean? In full sentences, please; I’m tired of hearing you stutter.”

Ciri suddenly found it incredibly difficult to keep eye contact with Yennefer, and she lowered her head. She could feel her face heating up. “Because…I was having dinner with the other girls, you see, and they laughed at me and said magic doesn’t have any access to me because I—because…I’m a virgin, that means—”

“I know what it means, believe it or not,” Yennefer interrupted, the corner of her mouth turned up. “No doubt you’ll think I’m still mocking you, but I hate to tell you that’s bullshit. Let’s get back to the test.”

“The tests are pointless! I’m a virgin, and virgins can’t do magic!”

“I can’t see a solution.” Yennefer plucked a book off a nearby shelf and sat down, opening it casually. “Go lose your virginity, then, if it gets in your way so much. But be quick about it, please.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Oh, could you tell?” Yennefer didn’t look up from her book, but Ciri saw the faint smile widen. “Congratulations, you’ve passed the first test. And now for the real one, so concentrate, please.” She gestured with her thin fingers to the paper in front of Ciri. “There are four pine trees in the picture. Each has a different number of branches. Draw a fifth with the appropriate number of branches that fits in the space.”

“Trees are silly,” Ciri proclaimed even as she was drawing one, albeit slightly crooked, and poking her tongue out between her teeth. “And boring! What do they have to do with magic? Lady Yennefer! You promised to answer my questions!”

Yennefer sighed, leaned over and picked up the paper, appraising Ciri’s drawing critically with her sharp eyes. “I think I’m going to end up regretting that,” she said. “What do they have to do with magic? Nothing. But you’ve drawn it correctly, and on time. To be quite honest, it’s excellent for a virgin.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No. There’s a very small number of people that can truly make me laugh, and you’re not among them. Take a look at the next page. There are rows of stars, circles, triangles, and crosses, a different number of shapes in each row. Think about it, then tell me: how many stars should be in the last row?”

“Stars are silly!”

“How many?”

“Three!”

For several long minutes Yennefer was silent, looking up from her book to stare at something out the wide, tall windows. The mischievous smile on Ciri’s face slowly faded until she was instead worrying her bottom lip nervously. Never before had she felt such intense and instant regret.

“No doubt you were curious,” Yennefer finally said, still looking away, “about what would happen if you gave me a ridiculous answer. Did you think I wouldn’t notice, that I don’t care one bit about your answers? Because you’re wrong. Did you assume I’d just accept that you’re stupid? Wrong. But if you were sick of being tested and wanted to test me instead…it’s clearly worked, hasn’t it? The test is done. Return the paper.”

“I…I’m sorry, Lady Yennefer.” Ciri’s voice was shaking; she lowered her head. “There…there should be…one star there. I’m sorry. Don’t be angry with me, please.”

“Ciri. Look at me.” And Ciri did with wide eyes. It was the first time Yennefer had called her by her name. “Ciri, you should know that, despite what it may seem, it takes a lot more than that to make me angry. You haven’t. But you’ve apologized, which proves I was right about you. Now, here’s the next sheet. There are five houses on it. Draw the sixth—”

“Again? But I don’t see why—”

“The sixth house, to fit in this space,” Yennefer continued, her voice raised, tone changing in a way that made Ciri look meekly back down at the paper. “Don’t make me repeat myself, please.”

\--------------------

Their lessons came to an abrupt pause on Beltane, when the woman named Lady Eilhart showed up without warning and insisted on ‘borrowing’ Yennefer for the night. (She called her ‘Yenna’ and Yennefer called her ‘Phil,’ which Ciri thought was very odd.) After nearly forty minutes of halfhearted protesting, Yennefer packed a small bag, assigned Ciri a few pages of work, and left as suddenly as she seemed to have arrived. When she returned late the next night, she was in a considerably better mood, though when Ciri asked what had happened she said “I’d rather not tell you, and before you say anything else, yes, I’m being honest.” Ciri decided it would be best for her not to press the matter further, but when they resumed their lessons she noticed another ring on the first finger of Yennefer’s right hand, a thin silver band set with a small blue stone.

Spending so much time hunched over the tests was making her more and more claustrophobic by the day, not to mention it was making her back hurt. Per the terms of their agreement, she told Yennefer as soon as she felt it was too much to bear. Surprisingly, Yennefer didn’t comment. She must’ve seen it coming.

She gave Ciri the next two days off, and instead of tests they ran through the park as the other priestesses and novices watched them. At first Ciri had been intensely conscious of their pitying stares, but it seemed Yennefer didn’t care at all, and soon Ciri learned not to as well. It felt almost like her training back in Kaer Morhen—but with Yennefer, theory always came with it. She taught Ciri how to breathe properly—she knew an awful lot about that—and demonstrated by having Ciri put her hand on her abdomen so she could feel the steady, deep way Yennefer inhaled and exhaled. She had a thin, silvery scar that started just under her navel and though Ciri was immensely curious, she instinctively knew it was something she shouldn’t ask about.

Often they would take breaks from exercise and Yennefer would explain the workings of muscle and bone, show her how to release tension. During one of these breaks, they lay stretched out in the grass, looking up, and Ciri found she couldn’t keep quiet anymore about what was bothering her. “Lady Yennefer? When will we finish the tests?”

“Do they truly bore you that much?”

“No, but…I’d like to know. If I’m cut out to be a mage, I mean.”

“You are.”

“You already know?”

“I knew right away. Very few can detect the activity of my star. You saw it immediately.”

“And the tests?”

“Done. I know what I need to.”

“But some of them…they didn’t work out well. You’re really sure I have the ability? You’re not mistaken?”

“I’m sure.”

“But—”

“Ciri.” She smiled a little, amused but also somewhat impatient. “From the second we laid down, I’ve been talking without using my voice—it’s called telepathy, remember that. And I’m sure you’ve noticed it hasn’t made our conversation any more difficult.”

\--------------------

“Magic, in some people’s opinions, is the embodiment of Chaos. A key capable of opening a forbidden door behind which lurks nightmares, fear, and unimaginable horrors. Forces of pure Evil, capable of destroying not only the one who opens the door, but the entire world. And since so many try to open it, one will someday make a mistake. Therefore, magic is the revenge and weapon of Chaos. The fact that people learned to use it following the Conjunction of the Spheres will be man’s undoing. And they’re right. Those who believe magic is Chaos are not mistaken.”

They had been walking for nearly half an hour and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Though they moved at a leisurely pace, Ciri knew they were going somewhere important because Yennefer had been lecturing her the entire time. She’d traded in her customary heels for flat boots (in which she was only a couple of inches taller than Ciri) and a black long-sleeved top that covered everything but her fingertips, which brushed against the tops of the tall grasses they were walking through. She’d also tucked all her hair inside a black beanie, so it wouldn’t get blown in her eyes by the breeze whipping around them, and Ciri was struck by the thinness of her face.

“In other people’s opinions,” she continued, “magic is a great, elitist art, a talent granted only to a chosen few. The rest can only envy the work, can admire while feeling that without this work and this talent the world would be worse off. The fact that some found this talent within themselves following the Conjunction of the Spheres is a blessing of beauty. So those who think magic is Art are also right.”

In front of them, on a long hill, was an enormous boulder supported by smaller rocks, looming ominously above them. Yennefer guided Ciri towards it without stopping. She reached up and pushed an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“There are also those who think magic is a science, and innate ability alone is not enough to master it. Years of study, endurance, self-discipline: these are all more important. In this way, magic is knowledge, and its limits are constantly being stretched by experience. It is progress, evolution, change, constant movement forwards. The fact that, after the Conjunction of the Spheres, some discovered magic, will one day render our universe limitless. Here, Ciri.”

Yennefer placed her hand on the stone and brushed away some of the dirt and leaves on it. She placed her other arm around Ciri, who shivered. “Remember,” she said softly, “magic is Chaos, Art and Science—a curse, a blessing, and progress. It all depends on who uses it, on how and why. And it’s everywhere—all around us. All one has to do is stretch out their hand. See?”

Ciri saw the thing in front of her tremble, heard a rumble from the ground beneath her feet. The grass flattened in the sudden wind as the sky darkened, covered in clouds. Lightning flashed, raindrops fell on their faces. Ciri pressed closer to Yennefer, blinking rapidly as loose strands of black hair blew in her face.

“The earth we walk on. The fire within it that won’t go out. The water that makes all life possible. The air we breathe. Stretching out a hand is enough to master them. Magic is everywhere—in water, earth, fire, air—and behind the door the Conjunction of the Spheres closed on us. But sometimes, from behind that door, it extends its hand to us. You already know that, don’t you? You’ve felt its touch, and it filled you with fear. As it does everyone. There is Chaos and Order—Good and Evil—in all of us, and we must all learn to control it. You will learn, Ciri. That is why I brought you here, to this stone at the crossing of veins of power. Touch it.”

The boulder shook, and the entire hill with it. Yennefer’s grip tightened on Ciri’s shoulder.

“Magic is extending its hand to you, Ciri—strange girl, Child of the Elder Blood. Destined and destiny. Chaos reaches for you from behind the closed door, still unsure whether you will be its tool or its enemy. It shows you this uncertainty in your dreams. Chaos fears you, Child of Destiny. But it wants you to be the one who is afraid.”

Lightning struck, followed by a long, low rumble of thunder. Ciri shook from the cold. Yennefer was staring at her intensely, her star shining in the darkness.

“Chaos cannot show you what it truly is, so it shows you the future. It wants you to fear what will happen to you and your loved ones, and to let that fear take you over. You can’t let it. Now—you must show me what you see in your dreams. And you will be afraid. And you will forget it and master your fear. Look at my star, Ciri. Don’t take your eyes off it.”

Ciri looked. A flash of blinding light. Thunder.

“Speak! I command you!”

Blood—so much blood. Yennefer’s lips move even though she does not speak and the stuff trickles from them, runs in rivulets down her bruised arms. Gods, she thought, it’s everywhere. Streaking down her legs, her sides. The acrid tang of bellowing black smoke. Twisted hunks of metal. Shards of glass covering the ground like snow.

Something isn’t right. There are six too few of them, all those bodies condensed into one. Someone is calling for her, someone is screaming—

“Speak!”

There is a hollow place somewhere in her stomach that she knows she can never fill. She knows, but she tries anyway. Blood seeping into the pavement, into the carpet. Shaking hands covered in it. Her body is a foreign thing, scraped and unwanted. Smoke pouring from the cuts. Faintly, in the distance—sirens. The smell of antiseptic.

The pain starts just under her ribs, sparks its way up her body, sinking its horrible teeth into her, filling her lungs like water, tearing a jagged white-hot line across her cheek…

“Ciri!”

She felt a dull ache in the back of her head, accompanied by the roughness of stone. She didn’t know when she’d sat down. Yennefer felt next to her. She’d taken the hat off; her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Not all of those dreams had been hers. Carefully, she pulled her hand away from her cheek. The spot where it had been throbbed with pain.

“Mama…” Ciri groaned, the sound scratching its way out of her throat. “Mama…how it hurts! Mama…”

Yennefer touched her face. Her fingertips were cold and shaking slightly. The pain immediately ceased.

“I saw…” Ciri closed her eyes briefly, trying to remember. “In the dream I saw…smoke, there was lots of smoke, and blood, and…you. I saw you, Lady Yennefer!”

“I know.”

When Ciri looked at her again, Yennefer’s face had become strangely closed off. “I saw you…I saw how—”

“No. You’ll never see it again. You won’t dream of those things. I will give you the force to push those nightmares away. That’s why you’re here—so I could show you that force. Tomorrow, I will start giving it to you.”

\--------------------

The days that followed made all the time she’d spent training at Kaer Morhen look simple by comparison. Yennefer didn’t’ go easy on her—not that Ciri had expected her to—but the lessons themselves were always interesting. Despite her exhaustion, Ciri found it impossible not to listen. And it wasn’t just because of Yennefer herself, though she was as riveting as ever, perhaps even more so. No, the real reason was the subject. Magic. That alone made for fascinating, exciting, and absorbing study.

Ciri spent most of the day with Yennefer, listening to her lectures and beginning to learn the basic hand movements. She never returned to the dormitory earlier than ten o’clock at night, and always fell straight asleep. The other girls had begun to complain about how loudly she snored, and had tried several times in vain to wake her.

Ciri slept deeply. With no dreams.

\--------------------

“Gods,” Yennefer sighed, pushing her hand through her hair so it fell away from her face, violet eyes closed. “But it’s so simple! If you can’t grasp this, what will you do when the harder ones come along?”

Ciri rubbed her hand, which ached horribly, and mumbled something in reply. Yennefer sighed again.

“Here, look at the etching again. Look at how your fingers should be spread. Pay close attention to the explanatory runes describing how the move should be performed.”

“I’ve looked at it a million times! I know the runes! Vort, caélme. Ys, veloë. Away from oneself, slowly. Down, quickly. The hand…like this?”

“And the little finger?”

“I can’t position it like that without bending the ring finger too!”

“Give me your hand.”

“ _Ow_!”

“Not so loud. We don’t Nenneke running in again, do we? Don’t move your fingers. Now, perform the gesture. Turn the wrist! Good. Now, shake the hand, relax the fingers—and repeat. No, not like that! If you’d actually been casting your hands would be in splints for months! Are they made of wood?”

“I’m trained to hold a sword! That’s why!”

“That’s a lovely excuse, and it might have worked on Triss, but not me. Try again, my ugly one. See? It’s enough to want it. It’s enough to try. Again. Good. Shake your hand. Once more…good. Are you tired?”

“A little…”

Here. Let me massage your hand and arm.” Ciri collapsed into a chair and Yennefer pulled up another one to sit across from her, tucking her legs underneath her. She always seemed to sit in a way that made her as physically small as possible, though her presence never diminished. “Ciri, why haven’t you been using the ointment I gave you? Gods, but your hands are so rough…and what’s this? A mark left by a ring. Did I imagine it or did I expressly forbid you from wearing jewelry?”

“But I won it from Myrrha! And I only wore it half a day—”

“Which is half a day too long. Don’t do it again, please.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t I—?”

“You don’t have to understand,” Yennefer said calmly. “Please, just don’t wear anything like that. Pin flowers in your hair, make wreaths for it if you want to. But no metal, crystals, or stones. It’s important, and I’ll explain when the time comes. For now, please trust me.”

“But you wear jewelry!” Ciri stared hard at Yennefer’s star, then the two rings on her right hand, then the shell of one of her ears, lined by a row of diamond studs. “And I’m not allowed? Is it…is it because I’m a virgin?”

Yennefer smiled and ran her hand through Ciri’s hair. “Are you still obsessing over that, ugly one? I’ve already told you it doesn’t matter if you are or not. Not in the slightest. Wash your hair tonight, please; it needs it.”

“Lady Yennefer?” She didn’t answer out loud, but raised an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. “As…as part of the sincerity you promised, may I ask you something?”

“Yes. But by the gods, not about virginity, please.”

Ciri looked down at the floor and kept silent. After a moment, Yennefer exhaled slowly. “So be it. Ask away.”

“It’s because…” Ciri could feel herself blushing; she found it difficult to look Yennefer directly in the eye. “The other girls, they say all kinds of things…about Beltane and such, and…they call me a child, because it’s time…but Lady Yennefer, how does it really work? How does one know it’s time…”

“…to go to bed with a man?”

Ciri’s face burned. She nodded. Yennefer, who seemed entirely unperturbed by the question, gathered her hair behind her head. Even picked up so high, its ends still fell past her shoulders. “It’s easy to tell,” she said as she tied it in place. “If you’re starting to think about it, it’s a sign the time has come.”

“But I don’t want to!”

“Then don’t. You’re not required to.”

“Right.” She bit her lip, kept her eyes intensely focused on Yennefer’s ear so she wouldn’t quite have to look straight at her. “And…that man…how do you know it’s the right one to…”

“Go to bed with?” Ciri nodded. Yennefer smiled, though it looked forced. “Well. If you’ve got any choice, but not much experience, you’ll want to first appraise the bed.”

“I—” Ciri realized, after a moment, that her mouth was hanging open, and she closed it quickly. She hadn’t realized she could get any more embarrassed, but suddenly she was. “The bed?”

“Exactly.” The smile didn’t quite widen, she thought, but something about it changed. “If they don’t have a bed, you eliminate them on the spot. Of those remaining, you cross out those whose beds are…less than acceptable. Then you look at those with clean beds and choose the one you find most attractive. Unfortunately, this method is not completely foolproof.” Yennefer bit her lip and looked over Ciri’s shoulder, her gaze somewhere very far away. “You can make a terrible mistake.”

“You’re joking?”

“No,” she said softly, putting her hand on Ciri’s knee for a brief moment. “I’m not joking. From now on, you’re sleeping here with me. Get your things. It seems too much time is spent talking in that dormitory which could be better used sleeping.”

\--------------------

Once she had finally mastered the basics—the positions of her hands, their movements—she began to learn the words of the spells. She found, with no small amount of relief, that the formulae of them, written in Elder Speech, were far easier to master than anything she’d learned. That was clearly pleasing to Yennefer as well, and as a result she herself became more pleasant, and Ciri enjoyed her lessons more and more as well. They took frequent breaks, during which they talked about anything and everything, even going so far as to occasionally poke fun at Nenneke, who visited their lessons often and with a demeanor that indicated she thought she’d have to snatch Ciri away at any moment. Since she had moved into Yennefer’s chambers, they were together by night as well. Yennefer was far more relaxed in the evenings, which they often spent reading, curled up in large chairs she must have brought in herself, because there were none like them in the rest of the temple.

As the days wore into weeks, Ciri became more comfortable asking questions—and she received answers, ones from which she was beginning to piece together who Yennefer of Vengerberg was outside of their lessons—a person who was, she found, surprisingly easy to get along with. But Yennefer asked questions, too, the kind that Ciri didn’t want to answer. She had made the mistake of assuming Yennefer didn’t care about her past, about her childhood in Cintra, the time she had run away and it had actually worked, her years at Kaer Morhen. But Yennefer already knew more than anyone there, except perhaps Nenneke. She could be trusted, Geralt had told her, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

And so, with an equal or perhaps greater amount of reluctance, Ciri told her everything she remembered. To her credit, Yennefer didn’t once try to push her beyond what she wanted to say. When Ciri clammed up, drew in on herself, Yennefer stopped asking—and, despite what she’d said months ago, it didn’t mean the end of their lessons. Yennefer had become infinitely more understanding, and when Ciri talked, she listened.

One evening, instead of reading, Ciri sat up very straight in her chair and told an incredibly embellished version of her first meeting with Geralt in Brokilon Forest. Yennefer listened attentively, turned to the side, her brow furrowed. “I’m trying to imagine,” she said when Ciri had finished her story, staring at the ceiling, “the expression on his face then, when he saw what kind of surprise he was in for. I’ve only seen pictures, so it’s hard to think—but he must’ve had a wonderful expression, when he realized who you were?”

Ciri giggled, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, yes! Do you want to see? Here, I’ll show you!”

Yennefer burst out laughing.

\--------------------

“But I still don’t get why I’m looking for these—oh, what’re they called?”

“Intersections.” Yennefer finished tying her hair back behind her head and brushed off her jacket. “You need to learn how to find them, because you can draw the force from them.”

“But I can already do that!” Ciri protested. “And you said yourself the force is everywhere. Why can’t I just draw it from the temple?”

“Drawing from the temple seems easy to you because there’s a great deal of force there. You won’t always have that luxury. Now, let’s go. Keep your hand loosely in front of you, don’t tense it.”

“Which way should I go?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.”

“The veins are everywhere?”

“Not quite. But you’re going to learn how to recognize them. They’re usually marked by trees that have dried up, gnarled plants—Ciri, what’s the matter?”

“Ooooh…there! There’s something there, behind that tree!”

“Don’t be foolish. Intersections can only be sensed by standing above—hmm.” Yennefer frowned. “Interesting. Can you really feel it?”

“Really!”

“Well, then, let’s go. Show me where it is.”

“Here! It’s right here!”

“Incredible.” Yennefer said under her breath. Ciri suspected she wasn’t meant to hear it, but she flushed with pride anyway. “Do you feel the cramping in your ring finger? See how it bends? That’s the sign, don’t forget.”

“May I draw on it?”

“Let me check.” Yennefer knelt down briefly on the spot Ciri had indicated, pressing her hand to the ground. “Oh, this is a strong vein. Be careful, ugly one—draw on it slowly. Very slowly.”

“I’m not afraid! I’m a witcher! I—I feel it! I feel…” The rest of the sentence dissolved in a wordless cry of pain as she slumped to the ground.

“Ciri! Dammit, didn’t I warn you? Here, keep your head up—take this, and hold it to your nose. Calmly, little one, don’t faint. I’m right next to you, I’m right here…daughter. Hold still, I’ll conjure up some ice…”

\--------------------

There was a great deal of arguing about that small amount of blood. Yennefer and Nenneke didn’t talk to each other for a week.

During that time, Ciri did nothing but lay around and read, becoming increasingly bored because Yennefer had put their lessons on hold. For eight days she disappeared somewhere in the mornings, returned in the evenings, looked at her oddly and didn’t speak.

On the sixth day, Ciri was fed up. So she went snooping.

Yennefer hadn’t kept many secrets from her—their mutual promise to be honest had been largely honored, but she knew there were things she didn’t want to talk about, and those things were, she suspected, in the box she’d shoved back in a drawer on the first day they met. Ciri remembered where it was; she’d carefully catalogued the location of everything in Yennefer’s room that could’ve been of interest (taking special note of several volumes in her massive collection of grimoires, which she wasn’t allowed to touch). Her heart stuck in her throat as she pulled it out, smoothing her hands over the plain grey lid. She lifted it off slowly and set it down next to her.

The first thing she picked up was a stack of photographs, almost all of which depicted a clearly far younger Yennefer and a pretty tan, brown-haired girl. She’d never said anything about friends from school—she’d been rather reluctant to talk about her schooling at all—but that had to be who this was, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen Yennefer smile so genuinely, even though they grew closer every day. All the photos were much the same, though in some of the later ones Triss was there instead of the other girl, and she flipped through them quickly before putting them aside and turning to a far larger stack.

The rest of the box was filled with papers that she realized, as she leafed through them, were reports from a large number of doctor’s visits, results from tests and the like, which had been accumulated over a period of several months, if the dates on them were accurate. They didn’t look as official as Ciri thought doctor’s reports should; the notes were mostly handwritten in a small, neat script, and most of them were in a variant of Elder Speech she only mostly understood. She frowned as she read through them one by one—there was no reason to take a precaution like that, putting them in a language that so few seemed to know anymore, unless the things she was hiding were more serious than she’d thought.

Her own question was answered when she reached the bottom, where there were several more official-looking documents in a file—her student records from Aretuza—as well as a few images that were also clearly test results. As she flipped through those her stomach dropped; they were written in the common tongue, and what was in them…

She set the folder down with shaking fingers. Suddenly, far too many things made far too much sense.

\--------------------

Ciri kept what she’d found to herself for two days, after having carefully placed everything back in the box exactly as she’d found it and tucking it away. Normally, it would be extremely difficult to hide something of that magnitude from Yennefer, but given the way she was gone for most of the day and seemed distracted at best when she was around, Ciri found it took nearly no effort. But when Yennefer was gone, she thought about it constantly, trying to process the information, to relate it to where the both of them were now. It was difficult to reconcile with what she’d found out about her education—by all accounts, the things described there should’ve been impossible, though Ciri herself had been told she was an impossibility too many times to count.

Ultimately, she came to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. Knowing earlier likely wouldn’t have changed anything about the last several months. But it would change things now.

She spent the entire eighth day worrying, trying to think of the right way to bring it up, because sooner or later Yennefer would find out that she knew, and she’d decided it would be better to tell her outright than to risk her anger if she were to discover herself. But there seemed to be no right way to do the thing; despite the wide range of subjects they’d discussed in the past, Ciri had no idea how to broach such a sensitive one. Soon enough, though, she ran out of time—she heard the door in the outer courtyard opening, then the handle of the second one a few feet away from her turned and Yennefer entered the room nearly soundlessly, deliberately not making eye contact with Ciri. She set her things on a table by the door as it closed behind her and Ciri stood, her heart pounding in her throat. As soon as Yennefer turned around, she went up to her and hugged her hard.

Yennefer stood frozen in surprise, tense against the embrace for a moment, and Ciri tried desperately to think of something to say, only to realize the words wouldn’t come. She felt the pull of magic in the air that she’d so recently become accustomed to. Yennefer was reading her mind.

_I know_ , Ciri thought. There was no other way to say it. _I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it happened, and that I found out even though you didn’t want me to. But that was then, and this is now, and things are different. Things are better._ She paused, as out of breath as if she’d spoken aloud. _Things_ are _better, right?_

Yennefer didn’t respond, not out loud and not in her thoughts. She didn’t have to. Her hands, which had reached up to tightly clutch Ciri’s shoulders, the way her breathing shook, and, eventually, the slightest nod that Ciri felt against her hair—those things spoke for her.

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess this a bit of a cliffhanger ending, but more or less all of what happens after this that's important is going to be explained (or has already been explained) in AWAL, and honestly this just seemed like a good place to end it for emotional reasons, because this is the thing that really cements their relationship, now that they're keeping no secrets from each other. Hopefully I'll have another one of these done soon, though if they're all as long as this one it might not be for a while. I might also do another one specifically about these two, but I've got some other things I want to flesh out first so I don't know when I'll be returning to it


End file.
